The Eighth Unwritten Ballad
On the dark lake of the unplumbed
Mixed with the orchestrated arias of winds
The eighth unwritten ballad floats.
Somnolent sparks coruscate
In ethereal tints
Gutta-percha words struggle and wither
Tired syllables reverberate
Chocolate sounds stretch and gather
Marvel in the sunshine
Collapse, unfold and mingle.
As remote tambourines jingle
Eight seagulls fly in a curved line
Like pilgrims in the formless stratum
Of the unknown.
poem by Paul Hartal
Added by Poetry Lover
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